The Condition
by The Gray Maze
Summary: Someone has declared his intention to make the new transfer student submit to him. Harry is unimpressed. Other!School one-shot, mention of slash/het


**A/N:** This... came out of... nowhere? Um... it was a thought that I figured I'd write. I was thinking about the Other!School OMC slash thing and was, like, if Harry is supposed to be a powerful and badass fighter in these... why is he always the "submissive" partner, no questions asked, no matter who the OMC is? Then this and... I was thinking. Why is it never the psycho, bloodthirsty werewolf defense professor? Or the hot feisty female friend? This was written at 3am. I am going to wake up later today and wonder why I posted this damn thing. I know I am. I think I'll call this a parody 'cause I think I've got the elements of Other!School fics mostly down here and it's ridiculous. Only one thing left to say. Don't ask...

**The Condition**

The transfer student was a strange human boy. He was regarded with abject curiosity by the residents of the Alternative School of Unusual Magic. He was slender and of average height with decent grades and ridiculous levels of magical power. His name was an alias, they were sure. Like a human would have a name like Hal Moros. The attention he drew to himself without even trying didn't seem to bother him. His face was usually expressionless unless he was in the company of his only known Friend—a feisty girl with a lot of connections and an inexplicable fondness for the mortal transfer. Or perhaps it wasn't unexplainable—Hal was far from unsightly. More than a few pairs of eyes looked up when he ambled into the room. This attraction was what led to the situation now unfolding in the dining hall.

Few of the teachers were interested in the comings and goings of the students. They sat at their table chatting and eating, ignoring the mounting tension on the floor below their raised platform. There would be no intervention unless a stray projectile landed too close to their area. The teens were generally careful to never let that happen. The Headmistress was chilly as it was. Her temper was legendary. But there was no spell fire… yet.

"How about it?"

Hal—who would be better known by some as Harry Potter—stared flatly at the young man in front of him. His classmate that went by some Asian name that he couldn't be bothered to scrounge up. The violet-haired boy had just proposed to him out of the blue, declaring that Harry would be his mate and have his babies. He brushed off Harry's remark on the impossibility of doing so with an offhand explanation that it was just a figure of speech.

"Are you asking me to be some sort of submissive partner catering to your whims and running to you with every problem?" Harry clarified.

His Friend had already explained the dynamics of the students here. Harry wasn't sure he had it all down because of the sheer number of different races at this school, but he was pretty sure of what the boy was getting at. His expression was a blank mask in the face of the student body. Only the dark haired girl he called his Friend could see the incredulity in his stance. She was tense and ready for fighting to break out at any moment.

"What else would you be?" the boy wondered.

Harry turned, rather casually, and walked back to the table he had been having dinner at. He picked up a carving knife and returned to his apparent suitor. All the eyes in the room were eager, waiting to see how this would go down.

"I'm not really that kind of person." Harry told the boy. "I'm not really even into men, though maybe I'll try dating one just for the experience. But it most likely won't be you."

The boy looked affronted. "Why not?"

Harry brandished the knife. "If you can't keep up with me, you're not worth it."

The crowd tittered and took a step back, waiting for violence. Even one or two of the professors glanced up in curiosity. The human waited, unmoving, for the other boy to decide what to do. By the looks of it, however, it seemed he was willing to attempt beating down his unimpressed conquest. He unsheathed his claws and lunged. Harry sidestepped the attack, tripped him, and plunged his borrowed blade in-between the other's ribs. It might've hit something important. It might not have. He was assured that killing was permitted in this school and was willing to test that promise out if he had to.

"That was school property. Three sickles, Mister Moros."

The Headmistress's bored voice drifted over the students. Her arctic blue eyes were resting on the knife still buried in the boy on the floor. He was still breathing.

"Healer, take that boy to the infirmary."

The school's Healer took her time finishing the bowl of ice cream in front of her before standing and descending from the teachers' table. She dragged the would-be suitor off by his foot. Harry paid the three sickles. Dinner carried on after that, though more of the whispers than before were focused on the green-eyed human. Who was he? How skilled was he? He was the center of their school's rumor mill. He really didn't care. Years of being the center of the Hogwarts rumor mill had inured him to the murmurs of too-curious teens. However, the heavy weight of a stare on his back eventually forced him to look up into the gleaming amber eyes of his Defense Professor. For the first time since arriving in the sub-dimensional pocket he felt a smidgeon of unease.

.-.-.-.

"He's dating the Defense Professor."

"What? Really?"

"Apparently getting kicked around in class spars every day was keeping up enough for him."

"…what about his Friend?"

"…I think she joins them."

A thoughtful silence fell and the mill hit a snag. No one was really sure what to make of that.


End file.
